Salvage rusting in the rain
by Shadow Of Castiel
Summary: Dean, Sam and Castiel are on a case, but things don't turn out quite as expected or hoped for. Rated M for a reason - Dean/Castiel.


**Author's Notes: **This is another fic inspired by a recent dream that I had. ~shimmies~ Title taken from lyrics included in one of my new favorite songs ~ "Rusted in the Rain" by Billy Talent. If you haven't heard that song, yet, go listen to it IMMEDIATELY! 'Tis made of awesome sauce on toast!

Also, while fuchsite is real, it doesn't have the immense healing properties as alluded to in this fic, although it is supposed to aid healing, as do many other minerals and crystals. I'm interested in crystals and anything like that, so it was fun doing the research for this one.

* * *

**Salvage rusting in the rain by Shadow Of Castiel**

Dean cast a look around their surroundings, hand on his head, feeling the weight of the impressively large building bearing down on him, as though the walls were physically crushing him. He sighed, sank to his knees, and prayed that something would happen to get him out of this nightmare. The hunter vowed to himself that he never would admit to anyone that he'd been actually praying; at least not aloud or while sober.

"I told you this was a bad idea, Sammy," he hissed to his brother kneeling beside him, arms raised in a mirroring image of submission.

"How the hell did I know there was gonna be a bank robbery on the very day we came here?" Sam hissed back, brows pulled down in disapproval at his brother.

"It was your freaking idea to come here, get that freakazoid Godzilla rock," Dean hissed back, thinking over their conversations of the previous few days, which had led to them even being here in the first place.

He thought back once more of Sam finding evidence of a piece of fuchsite reported to have exceptionally strong healing qualities, stronger than the usual chunk of fuchsite at any rate. Castiel had told them about it originally, that he'd heard about it through the angelic grapevine, that it might come in useful for healing Bobby's legs. He'd managed to track it down, with Sam's help and considerable internet skills, to a bank in Boston, Massachusetts.

And now they'd managed to walk into that bank, tried to gain access to the vaults while dressed as security guards but had been thwarted by a full scale bank robbery before they'd even taken two steps to gaining access to the vaults themselves and therefore the mineral and freedom. Dean grumbled, eyes rolling to the Heavens as he muttered about having a freaking bad day to beat all freaking bad days. Sam studiously ignored him, just as he usually did.

"EVERYONE, SHUT UP," came the yell from the nearest bank robber, impressive shotgun that probably wasn't even loaded pointing first at the ceiling then at the already quiet patrons and workers at the bank. "EVERYONE DOWN!"

This last said, as Dean tried to rise, to reason with the bank robber, to talk him down from a suicidal, or at least homicidal mission. When the shotgun's cartridges exploded near the hunter's face, it at least confirmed two things to Dean; that the shotgun was very much loaded, and the robber was proficient at using it, despite his apparent stupidity at wearing fishnet stockings over his face, revealing its ugliness to all and sundry.

Dean decided to remain kneeling and in one piece, hands resting lightly upon his short haired head, flicking his gaze helplessly to his brother next to him. Sam could only shrug, looking just as helpless as Dean felt right then.

Dean and Sam could only watch as the bank robbers proceeded to grab all the cash that they could from the teller's counters, before barking demands for access to the vaults. When it looked as though his demands were about to be met, Dean shot Sam a meaningful glance, eyes wide and angry.

"I freaking told you we should have dressed as bank robbers, dude," Dean hissed, making Sam smile sadly beside him.

"You know as well as I do that never would have worked," the younger Winchester said, patiently, voice surprisingly calm given the circumstances. "The cops would have been crawling all over the place before we'd even taken two steps into the vault itself."

As if proving the younger Winchester's words right, the front doors exploded into shattered life, shards and splinters flying everywhere as several bodies stormed in, led by a very familiar figure in a tan trenchcoat, blue eyes scanning the crowds around him as though searching.

"Cas," Dean hissed, hoping to attract his lover's attention, and was suddenly very glad to see him when he thought he'd never see him again. "Hey, Cas."

Castiel nodded to one of the policeman nearby, as though deferring control to him, before the angel strode purposefully towards Sam and Dean, seemingly not caring that a hardened bank robber was nearby toting a fully functional shotgun and a mean enough attitude to use it.

"Dean, Sam, are you alright?" he asked, blue eyes trained solely on Dean as though he were the only one who truly mattered.

Sam couldn't help but grin, not in the least offended by the seeming dismissal, getting up to stretch his long frame over Castiel to pull the kinks and cramps from his sore limbs.

"Yeah, Cas, what took you so long, dude? I could have died here," Dean said, reaching out to lay one hand on the angel's shoulder and receiving a small smile of affection in return.

"We could have died here," Sam corrected, without due rancour.

"Yeah, what he said," Dean agreed, without taking his gaze once from Castiel's still patiently smiling face.

"But you didn't die," Castiel said, firmly. "You had an angel watching over you."

Sam snorted through his nose, before muttering in sickened disgust - "Please."

"What? I think it's nice," Dean shot at his brother's back as Sam traipsed away, helping people up from kneeling positions on the floor.

"He sounds like a Hallmark sentiment, Dean," Sam called over his shoulder, as he helped an elderly lady with gentle encouraging words and an even gentler hand. "Oh wait, I forgot, you're a sucker for Cas' Hallmark sentiments."

"Yeah, so what if I am, dude? You have a problem with that?" Dean asked, flushing in embarrassment, and garnering himself a quick thank you from Castiel and an even quicker kiss, barely more than a kitten peck to the cheek.

Sam at least, laughed, then shook his head at his brother.

"No, I guess not, Dean," he murmured, stepping aside as two of the officers led the would be robber past him. "I suggest you go get that piece of fuchsite while everyone's occupied. Hadn't you, Dean."

This last was a pointed statement, rather than a question and Dean looked suitably like a scolded child at that.

"Fine. I'll get your piece of hippy ass junk crap, Sammy. You stay out here and play with the pensioners, same as you always do," Dean groused, leaning forward to take Castiel's hand, a determined light in his eyes that wouldn't be denied. "C'mon., Cas. Hippy crap is calling."

"Hippy crap, Dean? I think it more New Age, actually," Castiel asked, innocently. "Wiccans believe - "

"New Age, then, dammit," Dean shot back, pulling the angel forcibly after him into a more private area away from the general melee in the main floor of the bank. "Now spirit us in there with your angel mojo thing you seem to like laying on me."

"Last time you said you didn't poop for a week, Dean," Castiel asked, turned puppy dog eyes that far outshone anything else Sam had ever done in his whole lifetime.

"Never mind that; I'll find a way to deal," Dean said, lifting Castiel's fingers to his own forehead and steeling himself for the ride and a possibly poop-less week.

Castiel shrugged as though in defeat, before wrapping one arm securely around Dean's waist, eyes locked with the hunter's, before he blinked owlishly, fingers pressing hard and sweaty against Dean's forehead. Dean was aware of a backwash of light burning against his eyes, the flapping of wings close against his face, feathers trailing and tickling against his skin and the gentle sounds of Heavenly choirs singing as though from above and guiding their way. He sagged against Castiel, grateful for the angel's supporting arm, leaning his forehead against Castiel's shoulder and sighing loudly into the silence of the bank vault.

"Dude, I'm getting too old and tired for this," he sighed, felt Castiel's fingers stroke gently through his hair. "I feel like I've been groped by an angel."

"It wouldn't be the first time, Dean," Castiel murmured, his voice intimate, breath tickling against the hunter's ear in pleasurable shifts on skin.

Dean grinned, chuckled at that, noticed the proud look that settled on Castiel's face and in his eyes as though he were pleased he'd made Dean laugh.

"I think you like groping me," Dean shot back. "Can't keep your hands off."

Castiel didn't reply, just stared as though transfixed by the hunter, plump lips parting slightly as he stared. Dean felt the usual coil of interest jerk through him, tightening his balls and stiffening his dick at Castiel's closeness, his beauty, his pretty mouth so close and kissable.

"Oh, God," Dean murmured, giving in and closing the distance between them, laying claim to Castiel's sweet mouth possessively.

Castiel responded, soft, ripe lips working against his own, matching moans of approval, of arousal breaking and meeting between them. His tongue licked against Dean's, was a heavy, comforting weight inside the hunter's mouth and the angel swallowed every single last one of Dean's moans and declarations of love greedily.

Castiel pressed Dean against the wall of the bank vault, protrusions digging into the hunter's back with the weight of the angel bearing down on him. Castiel's eyes blinked back at him from close range, his breath huffing against Dean's mouth in wheezing pants, tickling across Dean's chin and cheeks with every movement either of them made.

All thoughts of artefacts were driven from Dean's mind with the next press of Castiel's lips against his own, soft, silken mouth feeling so good against his, tempting ripe plump-lipped kisses, tongues meeting in a gentle dance in mid air whenever their mouths parted for the barest of moments. Castiel wouldn't be denied, wouldn't let Dean escape his attentions, and neither did the hunter want to escape. He caved, gave himself up to his lover, was rolled under by his desire, lust, need for the angel before him.

Castiel felt Dean relax against him, bodies molding together in a gentle, warm embrace, fitting together so perfectly, neither knew where each other started or finished. The angel chased Dean's mouth when the hunter finally pulled away, reluctance clear in Dean's eyes even as he smiled at Castiel.

"Take off your clothes, Cas," Dean said, voice purposefully pitched low and intimate, promises of sex and deep secrets to come evident in his voice.

Castiel's eyes looked unfocussed, barely registering anything but his own desires, as he took a step away from Dean. His fingers slowly skimmed down the front of his own shirt, flattening the white material against his chest, his abdomen, before his slender hands travelled down his dark pants slowly. Dean licked his lips, watched as the angel's hands moved their way up his body once more, tugging his own tie free of his own collar and tossing it to the floor.

The hunter watched as Castiel slid off his trenchcoat, slowly unbuttoned his shirt, fingers sure and steady as the shirt slowly came away from slender shoulders, slim chest, flat abdomen. Dean reached for his lover, wanted to touch him, craved him, whined deep in his throat when Castiel purposefully stepped further away, a stern frown crossing his brow as though admonishing Dean for being presumptuous.

Dean dropped his hands to his sides once more, not feeling happy about being unable to touch his lover but having no other choice in the matter. He continued to watch as Castiel dropped his shirt to the floor, skin gleaming in the light shining down from the ceiling, brief glimmer of wings stuttering into shimmering life behind him. The feathers were translucent, and the surrounds of the bank vault were easily visible through them. Dean was tempted to reach out and touch Castiel's wings, but they were gone almost as soon as they were revealed.

Dean went back to watching as Castiel slowly unbuckled his belt, pulled it free and sent it sliding to the floor, like one giant, leathery snake. Dean leant further back into the safe behind him, breath huffing and catching in his chest, his throat, hanging in the air with his moans, his whines of need and desire. His dick was hard, pressing insistently against his pants, begging for attention and release and receiving none as yet.

He watched as the angel slowly pushed his pants to the floor, kicked his shoes away, sent them skittering to the far wall with a thump and a clatter of leather against metal. His pants soon followed, leaving the angel wearing nothing but his plain, black boxers, erection pressing temptingly against the flimsy material, staining the front with a spreading patch of pre-cum.

Castiel leant in, body aligned to Dean's grinding his hips against the hunter's to indicate his interest and ever growing arousal. He pressed soft lips against Dean's cheek, nibbled along his jawline in little nips of his teeth, tongue lapping out to spread against Dean's skin in wet stripes and lines. Dean's hands convulsed and stretched against Castiel's naked skin, sliding round his waist and grasping his ass, squeezing tightly and drawing his lover closer still.

Dean's mouth was slack, eyes fluttered closed and moving beneath his fragile eyelids, as Castiel moved to his neck, inhaling the scents of everything that made up Dean, breath whuffling against the hunter's sensitive skin in wet inhalations and exhalations. The hunter felt desire consume him, stripping him bare of everything and all knowledge, except for his love for Castiel growing stronger by the second, the minute, with every kiss, every suckle of Castiel's sweet mouth against his neck.

"Dean," Castiel murmured, against his neck, voice sending pleasurable vibrations through the hunter's body. "Dean, take off your clothes."

Dean didn't, couldn't reply, just watched Castiel step away slightly, giving him room enough to undress, taunting the angel with a slow strip-tease to mirror Castiel's earlier one. Castiel's eyes ran over Dean's slowly appearing naked skin, lingering greedily wherever a new patch appeared, tongue lapping out to spread over his lower lip as his eyes grew wide, lust overtaking the borderline innocence held within their cerulean depths.

Dean slowly eased his shirt from his shoulders, wriggled free of his pants, his boxers, laying them beside Castiel's in a matching heap upon the floor. He glanced up, saw Castiel coming for him before his back slammed against the safe deposit boxes behind him, cold metal and protruding handles digging into his bare back painfully. Castiel nipped Dean's neck with his teeth, growl of possession leaking past pliant lips as he sucked a bruise onto the hunter's skin. Dean's dick gave a jerk of interest, became harder still and aching, pre-cum smearing over Castiel's thigh with every movement the hunter made.

"Cas," Dean said, remembering the fuchsite suddenly.

He knew that they should be finding it, yet was too far gone in needing, wanting the angel to really want to follow up his realization at that moment. He caved, gave in to his lover once more, felt Castiel purr against his skin as the angel felt his acquiescence to him. Dean pressed in close to his lover's body, manoeuvred him onto the ground and claimed his soft, sweet mouth in a kiss, tongues licking out and against each other, familiar weights in each other's mouths.

Castiel settled against the hard floor beneath his body, legs angling wider still and settling around his hunter's hips, feet digging hard into the backs of Dean's thighs. He smiled up at the hunter when Dean stared down at him with large, tender eyes. Dean's lips were parted, kiss swollen, hovering inches above Castiel's own, breath mingling and huffing in aroused gasps.

Dean moved first, scooted down Castiel's body, until his mouth was level with Castiel's leaking, hard cock. The hunter's tongue flickered out to play across the head, probing the slit and tasting the salty backwash of pre-cum coating his throat in welcome strands of desire. He took his lover's dick deeper into his mouth, eyes closing reflexively against the silken weight against his tongue, and he moaned with desire. His head started to bob between Castiel's legs, wanted to pleasure him and make him feel good and was soon rewarded by the sounds of aroused moans falling from between Castiel's parted ripened lips, the rising and falling of his hips in time with Dean's suckling mouth.

It didn't take long for Castiel to explode, come hitting the back of Dean's throat in a steady trickle, gasps of almost surprised pleasure amidst chants of Dean's name wrapping around the hunter's body. Dean pulled away, wiped the back of his hand across his shining lips as he swallowed convulsively at Castiel's release. He straddled the angel's hips, wondered what to use for lube when they had arrived unprepared.

Castiel smiled that mysterious, almost there smile that seemed to know much more than he was ever going to let on, and handed Dean lube as though from thin air. The angel's mysterious smile grew wider still, brightening his eyes into myriad sparkles of star laden amusement as though Dean's expression of stunned, mute surprise was simultaneously expected and unexpected to him.

"You're like an angelic boy scout, dude," Dean observed when he'd finally found his voice. "Always come prepared."

Castiel laughed at that, distinctive faint rumbles of laughter splitting the air and setting Dean to smiling himself. There were no more words exchanged between them; the circumstances, and situation begged otherwise and the perfection of the moment would have been shattered into shards if either of them had spoken.

The angel watched as Dean smoothed the shining liquid over his fingertips, eyes riveted as though in mute fascination at the way his hands appeared wet and slick in the light, before the hunter reached down to play across Castiel's tight little hole gently. Castiel murmured in pleasure, lips pushing out in a gentle pout of need, looking plumper, riper as his eyes drifted closed and gave him the sense of fragility that Dean so craved. The hunter eased one slick finger inside his lover, stopped when the first flash of pain tightened Castiel's face, watched, waited until he felt Castiel slowly relax around him, saw by the expression on his lover's face that the angel was relaxed enough to take more of Dean's hand inside him.

Dean pressed still further in, started stretching Castiel looser, working his finger in and out, adding another finger when he felt that Castiel was ready to take it. He smiled at the delicious sounds squeezing past the angel's lips, the ragged gasps and pleas that filled the air and threatened to send them both over the edge into climax without decent contact between them. Dean tried to hurry, tried to stretch Castiel loose enough to take his dick, and saw that Castiel's erection was fully hard once more, straining and curving up towards his abdomen, looking flushed in the light.

Dean withdrew his hand, swiftly squeezed more lube out onto his trembling, needy fingers, which he then smoothed on his dick, in quick, firm strokes. The circle of his fingers was tight around his engorged flesh as he stroked himself, feeling pleasure ride him, and threatened to consume him. Finally, he pulled his hand away, not wanting to come too early, not until he was safely inside Castiel at any rate.

He settled his body against Castiel's, felt the angel's hands settle securely around his waist, long, skilful fingers rubbing against his ass and sending little firework thrills of crackling desire through his well muscled frame. Dean pushed into Castiel's body, his dick hard and painful as he eased himself inch by slow inch inside Castiel's yielding hole, waiting for the tension to pass from the angel's muscles, admitting him entrance finally.

Dean cried out at the feel of Castiel surrounding him, tight channel warm and snug against his aching flesh. He started moving, thrusting into his lover eagerly, body covering the angel's possessively, as their hips bucked, rose and fell in sinuous time. Castiel's hands travelled over Dean's body, moans and small muffled cries of encouragement falling from his pretty lips as Dean pounded into him, sweat, cries, arousal mingling until neither knew where one of them ended and the other started, both wondering if it even mattered any more.

Dean felt his time approaching fast, speeding up onto him with undeniable intensity and he barely had time to draw breath before he screamed Castiel's name, filled him with thick spurts of his come as his hips rolled against Castiel's in a strong rhythm. The angel watched Dean's face, the pleasured expression making his lips slack, eyes blow wide and sweat pepper his forehead and cheeks in rivulets. He kept his eyes trained on Dean's face as he reached down between their bodies, wrapped his hand eagerly around his straining erection and started touching himself eagerly, fingers pumping over engorged flesh in confident strokes.

His eyes were still trained on Dean's face even as the hunter withdrew his soft member from between Castiel's ass cheeks, settled back on weary heels to watch Castiel touch himself, pleasure himself before him. Their eyes met and held, sparks seeming to fly between them as Castiel reached climax, filling his own hand with his seed in thick ropes, dripping from his fingers as he screamed for Dean, need apparent in his voice.

Dean panted as he watched him, loved seeing his lover so stripped bare and all for him, loved seeing the love-light apparent in every glance, every outright stare that Castiel threw his way and could only hope that Castiel caught his own mirroring looks when Dean threw them at him. He knew he loved Castiel, cared for him a great deal, even though he found it hard to tell him so; he hoped that his actions spoke where his words failed him.

Castiel reached for him, plump lips parted and shining in the light as he drew Dean into a deepened, searing kiss, lips meeting and parting noisily into the otherwise ghostly silent bank vault. Their tongues arched out and met in mid-air whenever their lips weren't connected, tips playing against each other in gentle kitten licks and laps, breath huffing and mingling in pointed gasps.

Finally, reluctantly, Dean pulled away, smiled when Castiel chased his mouth, begging him with aroused mewls for more and Dean kissed him quickly to appease him. He knew they had a job to do, an artefact to find, and if they didn't, then Bobby was screwed. As if seeing Dean's resolution deep in his eyes, Castiel pulled reluctantly away, nodding his assent and agreement at the hunter wordlessly. He stood, helped to his feet by a sweaty hunter's hand, gaze resting intently on Dean as Dean dressed.

Neither spoke, neither felt the need to speak, too frightened that the merest word would break the perfection of the moment between them. Dean waited until Castiel was clothed once more, no longer shivering slightly in the chilly air slapping against sweaty, heated skin. Dean crossed to one side of the vault while Castiel crossed to the other.

"What does this thing look like, again. Cas?" Dean asked, finally breaking the silence, wincing at the loudness of his own voice in the quietness of the vault.

"It's a mineral, like a giant ornamental stone that shimmers in the light with a beautiful sparkly shine and is actually a dark green variety of muscovite," Castiel intoned, as though reading from some ancient text displayed before him.

Dean shuddered and a mischievous smile crossed his handsome face.

"Oohh, say that again, Cas. I love it when you talk dirty to me," he said, laughing when Castiel turned an aghast expression his way.

"That wasn't me talking dirty, Dean. You'll know it when I do," Castiel replied, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes in a borrowed gesture from Jimmy that never failed to make Dean's heart skip a beat.

"Promises, promises, Cas," Dean chanted, laughing at his lover gently.

"I always keep them," Castiel said, turning away to rifle through the safety deposit boxes one by one, fingers crossing over the locks until they sprung open.

"I know," Dean replied, gently. "That's one of the reasons why I - "

Then his voice trailed off in gentle wistfulness, feeling too uncomfortable to carry on.

"I love you too, Dean," Castiel replied, smiling at the words that Dean didn't say.

"Yeah," Dean replied, smiling himself, heart hammering against his chest at the perfection of Castiel.

Castiel continued smiling to himself, felt his soul sing inside him with the sounds of borrowed angelic choirs, heat searing through him from the pride and the love of an angel directed towards his lover, his charge, Dean Winchester.

"I don't deserve you, dude," came Dean's quiet voice from across the room.

"Yes, you do, Dean," Castiel immediately replied, all too used to similar statements from the hunter to even bat an eyelid anymore. "Anyone who tells you different will be smitten."

Dean laughed at that, then said - "You said a funny, Cas."

Castiel's distinctive rumble of laughter came next before he said - "I still would smite anyone who came between us."

Dean paused, then said - "Hold me, Cas, that was beautiful."

Castiel whuffled an angel laugh at him, then fell silent, knew that Dean appreciated his comments despite his snarky comebacks. The angel knew that Dean was a good man, deserving of love despite what Dean himself would think or say. Deep down, Castiel knew that Dean knew that too, which is why he'd finally settled with Castiel, finally finding someone he truly wanted to be with, who wanted to be with him.

"Hey, dude. Cas, is this it?" Dean asked, turning to catch the angel's attention, one hand wrapped securely around a glittering chunk of fuchsite.

"Yes, Dean, that's it, you've found it," Castiel said in surprise, walking over to Dean to run one reverent hand over the mineral held between calloused fingers.

"I thought it would be bigger," Dean commented, blinking down at the small handful in untamed surprise. "And not so - "

"Beautiful? No, me neither," Castiel replied, gruff voice gentle, pitched to the same level of intimacy that he usually only reserved for Dean.

Dean remained silent, gaze dodging from the mineral he held and Castiel's solemn, enraptured expression, full lips parted as he watched the shimmers and the sparkles flicker through the piece of fuchsite. It was unlike anything else they'd ever seen; imbued with magick unknown, untold, yet infinitely beautiful and wise. The chunk literally thrummed with magick, beautiful facets vibrating under it's own majesty and magick.

"We'd best go, Cas," Dean murmured, too entranced to speak louder than an almost whisper. "We've been in here long enough and we've got what we came for."

Castiel nodded, mysterious blue eyes seemingly entranced by the fuchsite Dean still held in gentle hands, slender fingers stroking it and Dean's fingers in lingering, tickling caresses. Dean shuddered with the weight, the power of the crystalline substance pulsing in his palm and the gentler, more loving presence of Castiel nearby, fingers a welcome caressing weight against his own.

Castiel's gaze met with Dean's and they exchanged a wordless nod together. Dean smiled briefly when he felt the angel's arm wrap securely around his waist, fingers pressed solidly against his forehead as the sound of large angelic wings broke the air around his ears in deafening clatters of feathered noise. There was a brief flash of light, a rush of wind playing across Dean's face and the gentle tickle of feathers he couldn't see and seconds later, they were standing outside the bank, unnoticed by anyone but Sam, leaning solidly, impatiently against the hood of Dean's Impala, lips pressed down tight in a look of bitchy disapproval.

"What?" Dean asked, with an expansive shrug, Castiel's arm still latched securely around his waist. "We got here as fast as we could. It took a while to find, is all."

"Yeah, I bet," Sam murmured, more to himself than to Dean and Castiel, a gentle smile off-setting his words into something less harsh and admonitory.

He could never get over their closeness, their strong and immediate bond, the obvious requited love that they shared and he never could be angry with them for long. It was nice for Sam to see Dean so happy, and any pretence of anger wilted away beneath the backwash of light happiness and love. He squinted down at the glittering fuchsite still held in Dean's protective palm, warm now against the elder hunter's fingers, throbbing with a barely audible vibration in the chilly air outside.

"We'd best go, don't wanna get caught again, not now," Sam murmured, ushering Dean and Castiel to the car quickly.

The pair bundled themselves into the back seat, shielding the mineral from general view, as Sam fired up the engine and pulled away from the curb, slotting easily into the almost non existent traffic at this time of day.

"D'you think it will work?" Dean asked gently, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Castiel's responsive mouth.

"It had better," Castiel replied, kissing Dean back just as gently, eyes locked intently with Dean's as they pulled apart.

Sam remained silent up front, despite the fact he'd seen and heard them kiss in the rear view mirror. His lips quirked in a smile, and they drove off further into the unknown, uncertain as to whether the mineral would even work to help heal Bobby's legs.

Some hours later and Sam was sitting alone outside Bobby's house, waiting for Dean and Castiel to rejoin him, looking up when the door to Bobby's house swung open, revealing the grim faces of his brother and the angel. Dean was the first to shake his head, looking upset that the mineral hadn't worked.

"We tried, Dean," Sam told him, gently. "We had to give it a shot - for Bobby."

"I know, but it doesn't make it easier to bear," Dean said, gently, as he sat beside his brother, groaning with the effort of doing even that.

Castiel sat silently beside him, body close to Dean's, knees, thighs touching, one slender hand rubbing protectively over Dean's knee as though trying to offer comfort to his boyfriend. Dean smiled at him, laid his hand over Castiel's and entwined his fingers with the angel's, leaning his shoulder into his lover's and stealing a supportive kiss.

"We had to try," Sam repeated. "And we'll keep on trying. For Bobby. How's he taking it, anyway?"

"Okay, considering. He at least had the grace to thank us for trying. Then he told us to get out, stop being lazy idjits and get him some beer. He's run out," Dean said, with a mirthless chuckle, that told Sam he didn't think Bobby was okay at all.

Sam smiled sadly, but didn't say anything immediately. Instead he stared over at the salvage rusting in the rain, drizzles of heavy raindrops falling from the skies and settling in large puddles at their feet. The he stood, shielding his eyes to stare at Dean's Impala glistening in the gloom of a rainy day, before turning to Dean and Castiel leaning contentedly together and staring up at him.

"Tell you what, I'll get the beer. You keep an eye on Bobby, make sure he's gonna be alright," he said, casting a sad glance back at Bobby's house quickly.

"Will do," Dean replied. "And thanks, Sammy."

Sam waved away the thanks with a wet hand before catching the keys tossed his way by a quick brotherly hand. He turned away, trudged through the puddles and the mud, rain pounding his hair flat against his head in wet strands. He looked back only once and saw Dean resting his head against Castiel's shoulder, eyes closed, lips parted as the angel draped one steady arm around the hunter's shoulders. Sam turned away when Castiel pressed a long, lingering kiss to Dean's head, eyes closing as he visibly inhaled the scents of Dean.

The younger Winchester was still smiling over the loving couple as he drove away into the rain and the mist to get the beers for Bobby, wondering if they ever would find a cure for the elder hunter, whether he ever would walk again ...

-fini-


End file.
